


The Truest Thing

by elphiemolizbethbau



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: 1940s, Angst, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Making Love, Mildolyn, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Patient Teacher Gwendolyn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexually Inexperienced Mildred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elphiemolizbethbau/pseuds/elphiemolizbethbau
Summary: Mildred had never in her entire life felt so seen, so safe, in the presence of another human being.My take on what happens after the kiss in 1x07. I know this has been written a billion times, but here is my take on it. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 28
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi friends. Those of you who know me know that I usually write for Law and Order: SVU, but this fic has been forming inside me for a week, and I can’t get these two out of my head. So, bear with me as I try this. My plan is for this to be a two-shot, but depending on the response, I have been known to completely abandon my plans. (I have a 45 chapter story that was originally intended to be a one-shot, so…)  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Ratched, Cuckoo’s Nest, or any of the characters in either. I only own my need for smutty, loving fluff.  
> -Gabby

Breathless and lightheaded, Mildred pulled away from the kiss after what felt like forever, her mind taking several seconds to fully comprehend what her body had done. She chuckled nervously, refusing to pull any farther away from Gwendolyn than she needed to in order to speak. "I've...I've never done that before."

The older woman nodded, humming softly, her hand still cradling the base of the nurse’s skull. "I figured as much." 

They were both silent for some time after the governor’s ex-assistant spoke, and then Mildred inhaled deeply, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as the intoxicating adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins gave way to a less pleasant kind, anxiety rioting through her at the predicament she was in with the person she’d fallen in love with, a person who—admittedly—knew a lot more about sex as a part of an actual relationship than Mildred did. 

Mildred had of course had sex before, encounters similar to her venture with the hitman—meaningless, often painful fucks where a man would simply use her body as a vessel for his own pleasure, like an object, but the knowledge that Gwendolyn would definitely be after something more was disconcerting for a variety of reasons, one of which being that all Mildred knew how to do was lie still and wait for it to be over. "I imagine that if you know I've never kissed another woman, you also know that I haven't...gone further."

"I didn't think so." Gwendolyn offered the woman in her arms a sad smile. She remembered what it was like when she was first coming to terms with her sexuality, what it was like to realize there was more to life than rough, calloused hands and deep, inconsiderate grunting, sounds that still occasionally haunted Gwendolyn in her dreams.

The older woman always knew she was different. From the time she was old enough to understand her own ambitions, as she began to voice her desire to enter politics, not as a secretary but as a politician herself, the response she received from others told her she was cut from a different cloth than Sarah Vaughn and Betty Grey, her old school friends, whom had undeniably less lofty ambitions. Gwendolyn knew what it was like to be hit upside the head by a scary truth, and she longed to do all in her power to ease the transition for Mildred, who hadn’t had the most stable of formative years. 

“But that’s alright, Mildred,” she assured her, her thumb caressing a wet, red cheek. “I’m in no rush.” The words left her lips before she could grant them permission, and she could see that Mildred was trying desperately to hide the look of anguish on her features. Gwendolyn didn’t exactly have all the time in the world, and even though the nurse had put on a brave face and declared nothing would happen to the older woman, like so many other things that had happened to her, she didn’t really have any real say in the matter. 

Pretending to have power had been her only saving grace in a lifetime of helplessness.

Wordlessly, Mildred leaned in again, her forehead just barely meeting Gwendolyn’s, their sweat and tears once again mingling together. Feeling in this way was against the rules the nurse had created for herself, and goodness, if she was found out by anyone in Lucia, she could be next on the lobotomy table, or worse—beautiful Gwendolyn, sweet, good Gwendolyn Briggs could be subject to the torture she’d been facilitating and encouraging. And with Bucket in charge, could she be trusted? 

Power. Control. The nurse didn’t afford herself much choice in life; too many options were unsafe, uncharted territory. But as crystal blues destroyed the wall her defense mechanisms were so frantically attempting to erect, she just couldn’t run from the truth anymore. And the truth was Mildred had never in her entire life felt so seen, so safe, in the presence of another human being.

So, she kissed the woman again in order to convince herself she was real. Gwendolyn wasn’t going to leave her, and she’d give her life before she left her the way she left Edmund behind in that house. With all the pain in the world, the pain of solitude was becoming an unnecessary agony with which to contend. So Mildred drank in the older woman, her hands becoming more adventurous as they wandered soft curves. She smiled, flustered, when Gwendolyn exhaled audibly. Was this the softer, more gentle version of the wanton grunting of the men she’d used to convince herself she was capable of sleeping with an acceptable partner, hatred becoming the outward manifestation of her resentment and fear.

"God, Gwen, I don't know what I'm doing. What's happening to me?"

The older woman tilted her head to the side in concern. "What do you mean, darling?"

"Years ago, I...I mean,” she laughed, blushing, reminding herself to draw comfort from the warmth of a loving gaze, “I never fathomed I'd be doing something like this."

Gwen concealed a smirk, her hand travelling over and down a goose-pimpled arm. "Something like what, Mildred?"

"You're trying to force me to say it, aren't you, Gwendolyn Briggs?" The younger of the two couldn’t help the involuntary smile that broke on her lips as Gwen played with the ends of her hair, studying her curiously.

"I simply want you to be perfectly clear about what you want, Mildred. We ventured into turbulent waters when you didn't."

Mrs. Briggs had a point, a valid one, Mildred conceded to herself. "I want...this. I do. I just, I wouldn't know where to start if a roadmap slapped me across the face."

"Well, no one is going to be slapped across the face, Mildred,” Gwendolyn stated seriously, her smile fading. “That I am sure of." She knew the other woman was attempting to make an anxious joke, but there was so much pain in her past—and her present—that Gwen felt the need to take it upon herself to ensure Mildred began learning the truth about what physical intimacy could be. There would be no more using her body as a form of currency, no more desperate tries to be attracted to men, and absolutely, positively no more violence inflicted upon Mildred’s porcelain skin. 

"I'm not used to this,” she admitted, referring to the careful hands that traced comforting lines up her arms, down her back, and over her cheeks, as well as the words Gwen was saying to her, with a type of resolute conviction she’d never seen another woman possess. The balance of fierce sincerity and steadfast tenderness gave Mildred a sensation akin to whiplash. 

Gwendolyn empathized with Mildred’s lack of experience—to a certain extent. She knew that beneath the cold exterior, there was warmth, there was light emanating from the heart of Mildred Ratched, it just hadn’t been appropriately tapped into yet. That light was what the woman had fallen so madly in love with, and she was going to coax it out of her if it was literally the last thing she ever did. "You'll become used to it. It will take time though. It took me quite a while to become accustomed to a woman's touch, how different she is from a man. How soft she can be. How gentle. And I imagine after the horrors you've been through, my love, it might take even longer. But that's alright with me, darling. We'll just go slowly."

Mildred swallowed hard, her fingertips caressing Gwen’s face—her eyelids, forehead, cheeks, nose. Her head was spinning, but there was an anticipatory feeling building low in her abdomen now. She wanted to experience the touch Gwendolyn was describing. But could she handle it? She’d been searching all her life for the key to her own heart, and though she’d never consciously admitted it, loneliness had plagued Mildred Ratched’s existence from the moment she was born. She thought perhaps the key was a community, a job where she could do some good, the chance to show others the mercy she’d been denied. But none of those things seemed to fit into the gaping hole in her heart. "I do want this. I want...you."

"I can see it in your eyes,” the older woman quietly observed. “But it's your words that matter most to me. I would never want you to feel that sex is something I expect from you," she assured, finally using the word they were both avoiding.

"I'm definitely not used to that," she laughed mirthlessly. "The men. My foster parents. Edmund. They—"

"Shhh, my darling girl.” She didn’t want Mildred to feel like she had to retell the story yet another time, sure, but truthfully, Gwen didn’t know if she could handle hearing the sordid details again. “We'll make new memories. Sweet, loving memories. But only when you're ready. Because my feelings for you are also the truest thing in me."

"But—your cancer," the nurse stammered, for the first time voicing her concern about the very real possibility that their time together would be limited.

Gwendolyn shook her head at the younger woman’s final attempt to turn their attention away from her and what she deserved. "Your safety, Mildred, is the most important thing to me."

A sob ripped through the younger woman at the sincerity in her new lover's voice, and she gripped onto her for dear life, burying her head in Gwen’s neck and inhaling her sweet vanilla scent. Mildred wondered if all women smelled like this. If her primary school teacher had carried with her a subtle floral note or if Nancy, her fellow nurse in the war, had been as soft. 

"I think I'm ready, Gwen,” she announced eventually through tears, her mind returning to the woman whose arms enveloped her now. “But you're going to have to show me."

The other woman nodded, pressing her lips into now unkempt hair. “Mildred,” she whispered, equal parts cautious and longing, “my sweet Mildred,” she cooed, “you are the bravest woman I’ve ever been lucky enough to know.”

Brave was not a word she’d ever used to describe herself, but the conviction in Gwendolyn’s voice caused a warm feeling to spread from her chest outwards.

Rational thought was long gone for the nurse, but what remained was a truth that came along to trump all other truths. 

Love was the key.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi friends. I am so sorry for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to write and post the second part of this story. I just loved the first part so much, and I wanted this chapter to live up to the other one. Thank you for your patience. (Also, I may add another part at some point.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Ratched, Cuckoo’s Nest, or any of the characters in either. I only own my need for smutty, loving fluff. Trigger warnings for sexual content, specifically sexual contact following sexual abuse.

The Truest Thing

Part 2

“Gwendolyn, I—” Mildred cut herself off, feeling foolish as the pair arrived at the bedroom and sighing anxiously.

“What is it, my darling?” The older woman tipped her head to the side in concern. She knew she needed to tread carefully. If Mildred had learned as a child that sexual behaviors were to be used as a form of currency—as in she was given room and board in exchange for the “shows” she and Edmund performed in the basement—then it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to think that Mildred would agree to have sex with Gwendolyn just to prevent her from leaving. “Have you changed your mind? That is quite alright. I mean it. It’s alright.”

“No, I—” Once again, the redhead stopped herself, something she rarely did in her day-to-day life. Anyone who knew Mildred Ratched would say she was a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane in her own right. But with Gwendolyn, sometimes she just froze. “I wanted to say thank you. The truth is I’m aware I’m likely more trouble than I’m worth.”

The more confident of the two could no longer resist the urge to cradle a pale, clammy cheek in a lightly wrinkled hand, clicking her tongue in empathy. “More trouble than you’re worth? Well, that just isn’t possible.” She hummed, pulling the nurse to her by the base of her skull, allowing their foreheads to meet.

“What do you mean?” the younger woman sniffled.

“I mean,” Gwendolyn stressed, nudging her new lover’s chin upwards in order to meet her hesitant gaze, “that darling, you are worth everything. Everything,” she repeated, brushing her nose against Mildred’s. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“If you don’t believe me just yet, you will. I promise you that.”

Gwendolyn had promised. But what value did a promise hold for Mildred? A promise made, a promise broken. A promise was simply collateral you put up in order to ensure you received what you wanted, and then—well, there was always a way out of it. What did the blonde woman’s promise mean? Was Mildred just going to feel safe all of a sudden? Would Gwendolyn actively do something to prove to her that she mattered?

She mattered. Even the thought was strange. Gwendolyn had so quickly become everything to her. A friend. A confidant. A role model. All Mildred had to offer was resilience, she feared. The ability to survive one horror after another, brush herself off, and go on with her life. What could that bring to a relationship? She was alone with the most breathtaking person in existence and all she could do was stand there. Was she capable of deciding in that moment to do what she wanted? What did she even want in the first place? “I…what do we do n?”

In little more than an instant, the former assistant to the governor’s eyes darken considerably, a sight that used to send Mildred reeling, cause fiery panic to course through her veins, and make her wish she could run far, far away. But the look Gwendolyn was giving her now was enough to make Mildred’s own pupils dilate. “Well, I suppose that depends on what you want to do next.” The older of the two’s fingertips danced across the nurse’s shoulder and down her arm, claiming the redhead’s fingers as they intertwined together. The gesture still retained soothing properties, but the touch paired with her unrelenting gaze induced a quiet gasp to explode from the depths of Mildred’s throat.

“More—more of this,” she stammered, blushing furiously and worrying her lower lip.

A smile took over Gwendolyn’s soft features, and she offered another squeeze to the younger woman’s small hands. “Come sit,” she invited with just the right amount of authority in her tone. It was commanding enough that Mildred felt confident that she knew what she was doing, but gentle enough that somehow she also felt that she was the one in control, even as the more experienced woman pat the bed. “Can I kiss you?”

That, Mildred knew how to do. She bobbed her head up and down slowly, and this time, she initiated the contact all on her own, breathing deeply to calm her racing heart.

Soft.

She really couldn’t process anything else.

Just warm softness.

All Mildred wanted to do was savor it. When else in her life had anyone been soft with her, to any extent? She couldn’t recall an occasion. And if her time with Gwendolyn was limited, would it eventually come to pass that she’d never experience it again? The thought sent a shiver rushing down her spine, making the older woman pull back.

“Mildred?” she prompted carefully. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m alright, I—” She cleared her throat, reaching for one of the pins in the other woman’s hair in order to release her blonde tresses. “You’re so beautiful. I want to feel you, Gwen.”

Slowly, so as to be sure that Mildred could see what she was doing, she lifted her hand to the woman’s blouse, letting it hover just barely over her heart. “I’m here. Do you trust me?” she decided to ask after a beat, waiting for a nod before bringing her fingertips in to touch the redhead’s skin. This was a hard balance. She needed to keep a good portion of her arousal at bay so she didn’t scare Mildred, but if she were going to preach being in the moment, part of being an example for the woman she’d fallen in love would have to be expressing enjoyment in their time together.

Mildred’s tongue protruded beyond her lips in order to wet them, and her eyes travelled to Gwendolyn’s hand. When she looked back up at the older woman’s face, she was surprised to see crystal blue pools staring back at her. She had not been gazing at her chest as her hand lied impossibly still, but had been waiting to establish meaningful eye contact with the nurse. “Do you feel me?”

Her eyelids fluttering closed, the redhead covered Gwen’s fingers with her own. “Yes,” she breathed.

“I’m going to take your hair down,” Gwendolyn announced. “Is that alright?”

Their movements became more fluid after that, and clothes came off in no time at all. Mildred had no idea what she was doing, but she did know she wanted to be closer to Gwendolyn, and closer still, until every article of clothing down to underwear were removed.

Having another woman’s body flush against hers was beyond words. And with that woman being Gwendolyn, she’d almost forgot for a few perfect moments that she was entirely clueless about how to proceed. Her inexperience bounded back into her, though, when the older woman’s fingers ghosted across her ribs and her lips peppered kisses into her collarbone. “Can you show me? How two women make love?”

“I would love to, Mildred. But it’s alright if—”

“I want this, Gwen. I don’t even know what _this_ is really,” she acknowledged, “but I know I want it.”

Gwendolyn wasn’t sure where to start. She had been with women who hadn’t had any lesbian experience before her, but that was only where Mildred’s situation began. She’d also suffered abuse; her sexual development had been stunted at a young age, and she likely had little to now understanding of her own anatomy. She would very possibly be unable to provide feedback or explain to the older of the two what felt good for her. They were on terra incognita. Uncharted land to the umpteenth degree.

Maybe all she could do for the night—and all Mildred really needed from her—was create a safe space for exploration. “I can touch you—with my hand—and I’ll be so profoundly gentle.”

And unexpectedly, the nurse believed her, believed her in the way Gwendolyn had promised she would eventually, and it really had been no time at all. There was no deception to be found on the older woman’s face. Mildred could smell a lie from a mile away, and she was being entirely earnest. “Yes. Yes, let’s…let’s do that.”

Gwendolyn had been sure of herself from the beginning, but in this moment, as she stuttered out an “are you sure?”, her voice shook.

“Yes.”

A trembling hand made its way over soft curves until it rested against Mildred’s hipbone. “Darling, can you bend your right knee for me?” She waited as the redhead did as she was asked. “Tell me when you’re ready, and I will lay my hand over you, so you can get accustomed to the feeling. How does that sound?”

“It’s good. You can—I mean, I’m ready.”

Gwendolyn whispered a slow “I love you” into the nurse’s ear, reaching for Mildred’s fingers with her free hand as she tenderly cupped the woman’s sex, garnering a breathy sigh from below. “Tell me how you feel.”

“It feels good,” Mildred responded, squeezing the older woman’s hand. She wasn’t sure “good” was the best answer, but it certainly didn’t feel bad, and that was something to be grateful for. “It feels right,” she settled on. “Safe.”

“Well, that is the most important thing.”

“So, do you,” Mildred mustered up the courage to ask, “do you move your fingers?”

“Yes,” the blonde replied, proud of the nervous woman in her arms for asking the question at all. “It’s like a massage.”

“Oh. That sounds,” she gulped, feeling some pressure where Gwendolyn rested her hand, “that sounds nice.”

Minutes later found Gwendolyn tracing her pointer finger over each of Mildred’s labia and drawing circles over wet, beckoning flesh, all the while peppering kisses into her skin and cooing words of adoration. “There is an organ close to where my fingers are now. It’s called the clitoris. And it’s only purpose is pleasure.” Gwendolyn had taken it upon herself to do some new age reading during her own sexual awakening, and she considered it a sacred duty to educate other women, especially those with whom she made love.

Mildred blushed scarlet, a dull throb starting in her body from where the blonde’s fingertips scorched her skin. “Really?”

“It’s very sensitive,” the older woman explained further, offering Mildred a small smile and a brush of knuckles against her cheek, “and so I didn’t want to touch you there without telling you about it first. It can be pretty alarming if you don’t expect it. Would you like me to try?”

“I don’t know if anyone has….Will it—will it hurt?”

She hated that she couldn’t promise her love that it wouldn’t. “Mildred, it is never my intention to cause you harm,” Gwendolyn promised, pressing her lips into Mildred’s neck. “But some people are extremely sensitive, and you could become afraid. But if anything we do isn’t comfortable, all you need to do is tell me, and we won’t continue.”

The younger of the two nodded, gripping tightly onto Gwen’s hand. “I want to try.” She encouraged the woman she loved to move her hand. “Please.”

Mildred felt Gwendolyn move one finger from right above her opening—it was the place she was used to having men use for their benefit, yet Gwen had barely paid it any mind at all—and the pleasant sensation migrated upwards until something made her buck her hips. It was like a little bolt of electricity nestled itself into her skin, and when she recovered from the shock of it, she asked the older woman to repeat the motion. She blushed, slightly embarrassed by her own reaction, but her body relaxed down onto the bed as she heaved. “That does feel nice.”

“Good.” She started slow circles around the small nub of flesh, keeping her eyes locked with Mildred’s for safety’s sake, smiling when the nurse nodded her blessing.

This lasted for multiple minutes, a comfortable quiet settling around them as they breathed together. The pressure at the point of Gwendolyn’s touch increased in intensity, and the unfamiliarity of the feeling was disconcerting. Eventually, the buildup became uncomfortable for her, and Mildred feared the other woman would be upset with her if she didn’t speak up. The problem was she also feared Gwen would be upset with her if she did.

“Gwendolyn.” Mildred cleared her throat, frantically reaching for the forearm that controlled the movement between her legs. “Gwendolyn, I—I feel weird. I think we should stop. I’m terribly, terribly sorry.”

The blonde carefully pulled her hand away, wiping her fingers off on the bedsheets, and then she rolled entirely off of the younger woman, pressing her lips into the crown of her head and reaching around her waist, holding her close. “That is quite alright, my darling. We will try again. For now, just rest.”

And in the arms of the woman—yes, the woman—she’d fallen deeply in love with, Mildred rested, truly rested, for the first and only time her fragile psyche could recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for your patience. I hope you can understand why I chose not to have this night go entirely smoothly. It really doesn’t make sense that someone who is as repressed as Mildred would be able to make it all the way to orgasm the first time she is ever touched in this way. If I feel inspired, I may decide to add another chapter down the line. How bad do you all want it?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think and what you’d like to see in part two.


End file.
